"Non, Signor," said the gondolier. "No hava da monk."
"Too bad," observed the Unwiseman. "Hand-org not moocha da good without da monk. Da monk maka da laugh and catcha da mun by da cupful. If you ever come to America, Giuseppe, no forgetta da monk with a redda da cap."
With which admonition the Unwiseman turned his attention to other things.
"Is that really Eye-talian?" asked Whistlebinkie.
"Of course it is," said the Unwiseman. "It's the easiest language in the world to pick up and only requires a little practice to make you speak it as if it were your own tongue. I was never conscious that I was learning it in my morning talks with old Gorgorini, the banana man at home. This would be a great place for automobiles, wouldn't it, Mollie?" he laughed in conclusion.
"I don't guesso," said Whistlebinkie.
The gondolier now guided the graceful craft to a flight of marble steps up which Mollie and her friends mounted to the Piazza San Marco.
"This is great," said the Unwiseman as he gazed about him and took in its splendors. "It's a wonder to me that they don't have a lot of places like this on the way over from New York to Liverpool. Crossing the ocean would be some fun if you could step off every hour or two and stretch your legs on something solid, and buy a few tons of tumblers, and feed pigeons. Fact is I think that's the best cure in the world for sea-sickness. If you could run up to a little piazza like this three times a day where there's a nice restaurant waiting for you and no motion to spoil your appetite I wouldn't mind being a sailor for the rest of my life."
The travellers passed through the glorious church of San Marco, inspected the Doge's Palace and then returned to the gondola, upon which they sailed back to their hotel.
"Moocha da thanks, Giuseppe," said the Unwiseman, as he alighted. "Here's a Yankee da quart for you. Save it up and when you come to America as all the Eye-talians seem to be doing these days, it will help start you in business."